


Ficvember

by thebakerstboyskeeper



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, See Chapters for Specific Warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebakerstboyskeeper/pseuds/thebakerstboyskeeper
Summary: November Writing Challenge that I'm shifting here from tumblr.





	1. "Can You Feel This?" - Flynn x Dorian

They’re all so dreadfully gloomy after the quiet of the finished battle settles at Adamant. Dorian would consider this a victory, however bitter it may be. Flynn holds his head high, directs the exhausted troops and confers with Cullen on how best to proceed. To the gathered troops, he is their unfailing Inquisitor.

To Dorian, it looks as though he has settled a mask over himself.

He sits to the side, watching. The others have scattered off to their rest, but Dorian won’t leave until Flynn does. Besides, he’s occupied cleaning an overly large gash free of blood and alarming demon innards. His magic is all but spent, so basics it is until he can rest or find a lyrium potion. Still, the confounded bandage keeps slipping as he attempts to secure it in place.

“Here.”

Flynn’s fingers are gentle as he helps wind the wayward bandage around Dorian’s arm. He keeps his shoulders hunched, face turned away as he works. Dorian allows the moment of hiding, if only to have his own bit of time to push back the fear still churning in his gut.

_Finally stepping from the Fade, turning to find he had not been followed, that Flynn was still in there. He hadn’t followed, he’d abandoned Dorian, he was trapped._

Dorian swallows back the lump and says, “Ah, you’ve finally noticed. I was worried my flashiness had failed me at last.”

“It’s impossible to not notice you, Dorian.”

The smile Flynn gives him is small. Almost brittle. It doesn’t reach those blue eyes of his, and Dorian is suddenly reminded of the strange cornflowers he saw in his travels, wilting and shriveling in the cold.

He dislikes all of it.

“On the contrary, I’ve been so unnoticed, I was fearing I’d lose feeling in my arm entirely before it could be tended to. My fingers certainly cannot feel much. What a loss for both of us.”

Flynn huffs a laugh, finishing winding the bandage. He ties it tighter than is strictly necessary across Dorian’s hand. It’s not painful by any means. Just a slight pinch and pressure.

“Did you feel that?”

“Well now you’ve gone and completely rid me of feeling. Whatever shall we do now?”

There it is. That smile. The glint in his eyes. The man underneath the mantle. He draws Dorian’s hand to his mouth, stroking the fresh binding. He places soft kisses on the fingertips still exposed and filthy.

“Can you feel this?”

Dorian grabs his shoulder and pulls him forward, crashing their lips together. He pours all the relief they’ve survived and all the affection he holds for Flynn into the kiss. The emotion is returned in kind with a desperation.

They’re breathless when they pull away.

“Let’s find our tent and be done with today,” Flynn murmurs.

“I’ve never heard a better idea.”


	2. “People Like You Have No Imagination” - Sidni x Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for blood

She marks him from the first time she sees him. It’s a good choice, she has to admit. He’s average. Average height, average build, average intelligence. His looks are nondescript. He’s worked himself into a position that is neither bottom of the ladder, nor anywhere near the top.

It’s good, but slightly messy.

She has to wonder if Lorcan is getting desperate. At least the dwarves and Carta allies he’d sent previously were actually dangerous. Not to say this mercenary isn’t, but he’s not subtle. She notices him at most of their outposts, at Skyhold, and she can certainly hear him tracking them as they travel. That he hasn’t made a move intrigues her, so she says nothing, pretends not to notice him, and continues on.

It takes him weeks to work up the nerve. She wonders if it’s her reputation or something her father said that holds him back. In the end, it doesn’t matter.

The night is warmer than normal as she strolls across the ramparts. It’s not often she can roam Skyhold with so few people about, and she takes full advantage of it. She enjoys wandering without all the accoutrements of Inquisitor. The simple tunic and trousers are freeing, letting her feel the breeze on the unruined patches of her back.

A noise from the damaged section of wall brings her fingers to a hidden blade. Her eyes dart toward Cullen’s tower, light flickering in the windows.

Part of her thinks she should be surprised when it’s the man she’s been watching. He scrambles up the rubble, lunging for her with an Inquisition-issued blade. That little detail angers her more than it should. A throwing knife looses from her hand, sinking into his wrist. His shout echoes across the courtyard as he drops his weapon.

She hears the tower door open as she leaps, locking fingers in his hair and sweeping a leg around the back of one of his knees. A snarl curls her lips as she bends him over the edge of the wall, head pulled back and throat bared to the dagger she holds against it. His feet scrabble against the walkway, back braced off kilter on a battlement.

“Sidni!” comes Cullen’s voice as he rushes to her, sword drawn.

She ignores him in favor of stooping to meet her would-be assassin’s eye. They’re wide and wild, darting all over in hopes of finding an escape.

“That wasn’t very imaginative. You think I didn’t notice you? After all this time? This is your plan?”

A gurgling noise is her response.

“Inquisitor!”

Cullen takes a step back when she rounds on him, hold tightening on her captive. The sternness in his face doesn’t falter as he awaits her explanation.

She sighs, jaw clenching. “This man was sent by Lorcan Cadash to capture, not  _kill_ ”—she gives the man a pointed look—“me, and return me to the Carta.”

There’s a tense pause and then, “Allow me to take him, Inquisitor. We’ll place him in the dungeons.”

Her grip tightens on her blade, muscles poised to strike and end it all. As they stare at one another, she watches this stranger’s resolve harden. If they simply lock him up, he will try again. She presses against his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

“Inquisitor!”

Two heartbeats seem to slow, drown out all else …

She shoves away, turning from both of them. Her face settles into a mask. The dagger she slides back into its sheath, fingers twitching. She listens to Cullen pulling the man up and holding him.

“I’ll see him locked up personally and we’ll—”

She forgot about her throwing knife. Blood droplets splatter across her face as she turns and side steps to avoid him, but not quickly enough. Pain blooms in her right shoulder, warmth spreading across it as her own blood soaks into the tunic.

The sound of Cullen wrestling the attacker to the ground finally draws the guards. She stands to the side, pulling the knife free and ripping her sleeve to staunch the wound. She seethes quietly as he directs the soldiers to take the man away. She’d slightly underestimated the situation and now …

“Are you alright?” Cullen asks, reaching for her once they’ve all gone.

She ducks under his arm, holding onto the gash. “I had it under control.”

“You couldn’t—”

“Yes, I could have!”

“This isn’t how—”

“It’s how I do it! You should’ve let me kill him and be done with it.”

As she storms away, she catches a glimpse of his downturned face and feels guilt settle in her gut.


	3. "How Can I Trust You?" - Sidni

There’s talk of trials and suspicion and magic. She’s a dwarf. There is no magic in her veins. And even if she were to commit a crime like this, they would’ve never caught her. She would have been long gone and never made the mistake of incapacitating herself.

Ever.

But something changes their mind. Maybe it’s when she was forced to almost kill herself sealing the “Breach.” They act … different toward her. People whisper in her wake. Some bow reverentially as she passes. The angry and hurtful comments mixed in are nothing new, but the others set her on edge. Being treated like a holy figure is  _wrong_.

She suddenly has advisors and guards that watch her every move. The other dwarf - Varric - appears out of nowhere more and more frequently, pestering her with questions. The elf mage, Solas, treats her like an apothecary would treat a strange specimen. The Seeker admits a respect for her. The world has lost its damn mind. And it all makes getting back to her father difficult.

She can only imagine the punishment waiting for her return.

“You thinking of running?”

She curses the gravelly voice interrupting her thoughts. He’d been watching her for a while, moving carefully closer despite her trying to appear unapproachable in every way she can think of.

“Maybe,” she snarls.

He stops at her side, staring at her. She tightens her grip on her dagger.

“I don’t blame you. Any sane person would in your shoes. A lot of shit has been laid on your shoulders.”

She doesn’t respond.

“But I don’t think you really want to.”

Fire ignites in her veins, her jaw clenching. She forces her face to stay blank. Of course she wants to. It’s not safe here. It’s not safe anywhere, but at least the hideout is familiar. This is just another cage.

“Is what you’d be returning to better than this?

_Do not stab him. It will make them angry. Anger means pain._

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this better than the Carta?”

Her heart pounds. He’s not wrong.  _Not yet_. No one has hurt her. In fact, they’ve tended her wounds and healed her as best they can. They give her choices. She controls her movements.

For now _._

Will it always stay this way? No. She doesn’t think so. There are so many of them. So many to watch and appease. So many who will turn on her the moment she missteps.

“I think staying here would be better. Don’t you?”

 

He keeps using that word.  _Better_. Like it’s a promise. But the question is: is he telling the truth? Can she trust his word? Or is he simply luring her in?


	4. "Will That Be All?" - Sidni x Cullen

“The boss seems to be more interested in the troops lately.”

Cullen glances at Bull, then over to where Sidni weaves between the soldiers moving through their training.

“So she does,” he says, fighting back a smile. “She has informed me she has concerns about Adamant since she’s never fought with an army before.”

Bull hums. They watch as a sparring pair stops, staring as she passes. He’s about to reprimand them, but Sidni pauses, glancing toward Cullen before she backtracks and begins to speak with them. A quiet laugh escapes the huge Qunari at his side as one of the soldiers fumbles his blade, face reddening as Sidni turns her attention from his more composed partner to him.

“Let me know how that works out,” Bull chuckles as he moves back toward the Chargers.

Sidni excuses herself from her admirers and meanders toward him. How she manages to appear so distant from her true intentions, he’ll never know. But the way her eyes constantly dart in his direction belies her nonchalance. The only reason he notices is because he hasn’t looked away from her.

She draws to a stop next to him, just slightly too close, hands clasped behind her back. They both stare unseeingly at the practicing troops.

“Commander.”

“Inquisitor.”

They begin to walk around the outside of the practice grounds, Cullen halfheartedly explaining the drills and Sidni looking intensely interested even as she manages to brush against him every now and again. Pink tinges her cheeks each time he responds with a sideways glance.

He wants to pull her close. To kiss her again. But he understands she has her reasons for wanting to keep this hidden for now.

A messenger interrupts them, requesting the Inquisitor’s presence in Josephine’s office. Sidni’s shoulders slump slightly.

“I’ll be right there.”

As the messenger hurries away, she turns back to Cullen. He smiles, knowing he can’t give her any departing affections. Instead, he asks, “Will that be all, Inquisitor?”

The corners of her lips quirk upward as she recognizes the innocuous phrase for what is is. Her voice is soft, full of hidden meaning, when she replies, “As you were, Commander.”


	5. “Take What You Need” - Sidni

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what's going on with Sidni, some backstory can be found in chapter 4 of Month of Discomfort.

Bull knows something’s wrong.

In the fuss after bringing Cullen back, she’d slipped away. Everyone focused on Cullen’s wounds and seeing him back on his feet. And when Bull commented on Sidni’s absence at Cullen’s side, everyone assured him she must be focusing on the fight ahead.

He knows that can’t be the reason.

Their Inquisitor has made herself scarce. And if Cullen’s kicked mabari pup expression is anything to go by, she’s cut herself off from him too. Something happened, something beyond a simple run-in with Carta thugs she’d rescued her love from.

He gives her some time, hoping it will all resolve itself. It doesn’t. She’s a shadow amongst Skyhold, fulfilling her duties, but otherwise hiding away. When he does manage to spot her, she’s brittle. She’s barely holding it together. And regressing into the pained and caged creature she’d once been. It makes Bull’s gut churn to see it.

When he crosses paths with a defeated-looking Cullen leaving her quarters, he decides he won’t sit idle any longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Put me down! Now!”

It takes everything he has to keep the squirming dwarf slung over his shoulder. She manages some truly impressive twists and narrow escapes, but he holds firm. At least until he reaches the abandoned sparring ring. It’s the dinner hour, so no one is around to see him dump her on her ass in the dirt.

“You needed to get out of your room,” he says by way of explanation, tossing a blunt knife at her feet.

She has nothing to say to that, but her eyes burn like fire at him. He takes up his own practice weapon, settling into position.

“What happened when you went to get Cullen?”

“I rescued him from the Carta.”

Her voice is flat, the blade still on the ground in front of her.

“Well, something else happened. You wouldn’t have lost us if you hadn’t expected something else.”

“It was some dangerous members.”

“I think we can all handle dangerous.”

Finally, her face contorts into something other than the blank mask. “Leave it alone, Bull.”

“Something happened. You two are no longer speaking. And you’re hiding from something. What is it?”

“Leave it alone.”

He won’t. She’s boiling, near to exploding. All he needs is to poke a hole and release some of the pressure before she destroys herself.

“Must’ve been personal. Someone targeted you specifically. Was that it? Being near you put Cullen in danger?”

He hits the sore spot he’s aiming for. She charges him, none of her usual discipline or lethality anywhere to be seen. It’s a frenzy. Anything she can take a swing at, she does, fury overflowing in her pained yells. Her blows land without any of her real power. It’s messy and out of control. That scares him more than anything else.

“Take what you need, boss. Let it out.”

She strikes at him until she’s exhausted - which, he has to admit, takes an impressively long time - and collapses. He’ll be sore in the morning, but it’s nothing like she could have done.

He grunts, his knee complaining as he joins her on the ground. Sobs shake her frame, but they’re silent. His hand settles on her shoulder.

“Alright. Now, let’s go get ourselves a drink and you can tell me what’s messed you up so good.”

The pain hiding behind the tears in her eyes when she lifts her gaze cuts him. It’s going to be a long night with a lot of alcohol. But hopefully he can help her back to her feet.


	6. "I’ve Heard Enough, This Ends Now” - Flynn x Dorian

If blood could boil, Flynn thinks his would be close to an explosive heat right now. Not only did the illustrious Magister Pavus trick poor Dorian into showing up here, they’ve had to sit here and listen to his patronizing false pleas. On top of Flynn learning the rift between them is because of Dorian’s romantic preferences with a dose of societal complications mixed in.

In short, the bastard standing before him is a terrible parent.

Flynn’s mother and father aren’t perfect, by any means, but at least they accept him as he is. Watching Dorian rage at his father to cover his heartbreak is painful. The familiar urge to pull the other man into his arms is nearly irresistible, but he doesn’t want to add more fuel to the fire. Especially if he’s wrong and his feelings aren’t returned.

He approaches Dorian, keeping a careful distance between them.

“I think it’s time we left.”

Dorian’s face is downcast when he turns to Flynn and says, “I agree.”

Just as he’s about to cross the threshold, the magister speaks.

“Inquisitor, you must–”

Flynn’s hold on the door tightens. He glances outside to see Dorian nearly at Varric’s side. He meets the dwarf’s eyes and tilts his head, receiving a nod in return before he slams the door and turns back.

“No,” he says, summoning every bit of anger into his voice that he can. “No, I must not anything! Not only have you lied - more than just today I’m sure - but you’ve treated that man - who has done more to help fight this threat than most - appallingly!  _And he’s your son!_  Did you forget that? Or was your own ego more important than being a parent?”

He’s moments away from launching himself at the man, the echoes of pain in Dorian’s voice ringing in his mind.

“I know there has to be more here than either of you have said.” He holds up his hand, forcing Halward to shut his mouth before he can say a thing. “If I find you’ve  _appealed_ to Mother Giselle again … my ambassador would be disappointed if I caused an incident. And I’m sure Dorian wouldn’t appreciate it either, though Maker knows you wouldn’t feel the same if the roles were reversed. You’ve done  _enough_. No more. I’d suggest taking your leave of Redcliffe, Magister Pavus.”

The slamming of the door behind himself isn’t satisfying enough, even though it shakes the frame around it.


	7. “No Worries, We Still Have Time” - Flynn x Dorian

_“I’m going back to Tevinter.”_

Of all the heartache and physical wounds Flynn has had in his life, this is the worst. He’d thought it had been bad when Dorian had first left, but to find out he’s returning for good when all of this is over?

He’s angrier than a rage demon.

While Dorian lies sleeping next to him, he runs through the conversation in his mind. No, he can’t go with him. Yes, he must do it. It’s because Flynn has inspired him, really.

Selfishly, Flynn wants to yell and discourage him from his course. It’s a fleeting notion, but he’s never been able to trust his heart when it’s hurt. Decisions made in this state of being usually leave a path of destruction behind him.

The idea of having found Dorian and losing him … not even his gifted amulet can soothe that pain. Deep in his gut, he feels the Inquisition is in danger. In a matter of days, will he have lost everything he’s found for himself?

“Amatus?”

He glances down to find slitted eyes showing a glint of grey. Taking Dorian’s hand and shifting to lay down beside him, he kisses the tip of his nose. He soaks in the way Dorian’s eyes close and his mustache twitches with his sleepy smile.

“Is everything alright?”

Flynn hesitates. The answer is no, but he can’t tell him that. But his pause draws Dorian closer to waking, his eyes opening fully and his brow furrowing.

“As well as they ever go,” Flynn whispers, giving him a proper kiss. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Dorian curls into him as Flynn promises himself that he’ll find a solution. There’s still time. He’s not letting go that easily.


	8. “I Know You Do” - Sidni x Cullen

Everything is happening too fast, bathed in the green of the reopened breach. Sidni glances around at all of her companions gathering weapons and supplies for the frantic ride to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. A troop of scouts has already set out to ready the soldiers and clear the way for them to follow. They’re almost ready to depart.

She can’t leave yet. She can’t. Her heart pounds as she spins on her heel, eyes looking for any sign of Cullen. She can’t leave without seeing him.

Someone yells after her as she takes off to search the spots he’s most likely to be in. There’s no sight of him in the chaos and her breath starts to stick in her chest. She can’t leave without speaking to him.

Calls of “Inquisitor” and startled exclamations follow her frantic dash through the various courtyards. She nearly tumbles down the stairs, her usually sure feet failing her as she catches a glimpse of red and black fur amongst the soldiers scattering to protect Skyhold.

“Cullen!”

He turns just as she crashes into his legs. His arms are already encircling her as she clings to his waist, face buried in his stomach. She’s a stranger to herself, and yet not, as she gives in to the need burning through her veins.

“Sidni?”

 _Whatever happens, you will come back_ , he had said. What if she doesn’t? She won’t come back and he won’t know. Because she doesn’t say it enough. He doesn’t know. She doesn’t tell him. Not enough.

She hooks her fingers in his chest plate and hauls him down toward her, her eyes locked on his as she nearly shouts, “I love you! No matter what, Cullen, I love you! I love you!”

His brow furrows, that angry look that precedes a reprimand crossing his face before it softens and he cups her cheek.

“I know you do,  _a thasgaidh_.”

A smile lifts her lips at the - better - pronunciation. He kisses her softly, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“You will defeat him. And I will see you after. Victorious.”

She wants to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”


	9. “You Shouldn’t Have Come Here” - Sidni

She stares at the small fire as the others sleep uneasily around her. Once, she’d found Orzammar beautiful and fascinating. Alive. This … this is too much. It’s as if the Stone watches them. She can’t sleep for the humming in her body and the images it produces.

There’s something down here they don’t understand. She feels it in her bones. It sets her on edge.

She misses the sky. The sun. The taste of the air on her tongue. And while she’s usually drawn to rocky places, this is not one she wants anymore. The tunnels close in, the lyrium veins singing an almost-familiar song.

What her father would have given to gain even a glimpse of this. If he could see her now. Actually, she hopes he’s seeing her. And burning in agony and jealousy.

“Cadash,” Dorian grumbles half asleep from the bedroll next to hers, “get some sleep. Andraste’s ass, you’re starting to look like Cole.”

She curls up against him, prompting more grumbling.

The others talk of feeling trapped and the strange vibrations they can  _hear_ from the lyrium. Only Varric seems to sense something similar to what she does. She briefly wishes Cullen was here, but it’s selfish. This would be akin to putting him back in that Circle.

She pulls the blanket over herself. There’s no way to tell how late or early it is. It’s just constantly dark. She hates it. The familiar spicy scent coming from Dorian’s skin is the only comfort she can find at the moment. And it’s a small one at that.

As she lets her eyes shut, trying to find her elusive sleep, that humming intensifies. Her teeth rattle, a chill running down her spine. She’d almost say it’s calling out to her, beckoning her closer, but that can’t be true.

Her denial seems to add fuel to its intensity.  _You shouldn’t have come here if you didn’t want this_ , it seems to say.

The gasp that escapes her explodes through the otherwise silent camp as she sits straight up. She’s losing her mind. It’s finally breaking.

When her eyes meet Valta’s across the fire, she’s somehow assured she’s not the only one. It does nothing but unsettle her further.


	10. “You Think This Troubles Me?” - Flynn x Dorian

Flynn could happily throttle Mother Giselle. “Repeating” rumors and accusing Dorian. If he wanted to be objective, he could understand why she said what she said. But he doesn’t want to be objective. At all. He doesn’t need to be. Not with her or anyone else who doesn’t know Dorian.

He may be brushing it off, but Flynn’s still worried she managed to get Dorian, might cause trouble for him amongst the Inquisition.

“Do what? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers. It does make me wonder … is my influence over you undue?”

Flynn grins. “Perhaps. I mean … it’s the kind of undue influence I enjoy … no, I just … it’s welcome–”

Now he just wants to throw himself over the railing and into Solas’s rotunda.

Dorian, thankfully, saves him from himself and says, “No one accused you of being politically astute.”

The smile lurking under his mustache is gentle, but full of mirth. He’s holding back his laughter, despite Flynn playing the fool. When will he learn to shut his mouth instead of letting it run away with him?

“Not today,” he mutters.

Dorian finally lets loose his laugh. It warms Flynn’s chest in a strange flutter. Of course, the way Dorian’s eyes are glinting in that dangerous way doesn’t help.

“I tease you too much, I know,” Dorian chuckles, to which Flynn responds with a shrug. “I’ll have to find something we can do that doesn’t involve teasing. Soon, ideally.”

Flynn doesn’t miss the suggestive way his tone has dropped. He feels the heat rise violently in his ears and cheeks. He turns his head quickly to hide it, lest he give himself away.

“Does it bother you? That they speak of you being under the  _scary magister’s_ sway?”

He doesn’t miss the faint note of uncertainty under Dorian’s normal boisterousness. But the idea that Flynn would care, wouldn’t see the man under the far flung reputation? The heat floods back into his face as he turns back to meet Dorian’s eyes.

“You think it bothers me? I don’t care what they think, Dorian. They can take their  _fucking_  opinions and save the world on their own.”

The smile Dorian gives him sends him scurrying away before he embarrasses himself further.


	11. “But I Will Never Forget!” - Flynn Pre-Inquisition

They await letters from Alard with trepidation. Flynn’s parents accept the poppycock explanation that he’s been sent from Ostwick to Kirkwall because of his aptitude for teaching and diplomacy. Something else is afoot. Never mind that they all know the Gallows is the last place anyone should be sent. They know the rumors.

Flynn wonders exactly how much trouble he’ll be in if he follows through on his half formed plans to go rescue his brother.

The thought becomes increasingly prevalent as more and more time passes without any communication. He’s heard the whispers about the state of that Circle, the Templars stationed there, and the Knight-Commander. Alard shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be in a damn Circle at all.

Lady Trevelyan’s letters requesting news of her second son go unanswered. Despite it all, she maintains faith that the Chantry is looking out for Alard and making the best choices for his “condition.” Though Flynn wants to rage and shake her, he hasn’t the heart to destroy that faith quite yet. Some part of him still prays to the Maker that he’ll see Alard’s familiar writing soon.

It is only after Bann Trevelyan sends a vaguely threatening missive demanding news of his son that they receive a letter from a Knight-Captain Cullen and a short note from Alard himself. Its contents gut Flynn.

Tranquil.

After the initial confusion from his mother -  _But he’d already passed his Harrowing! Something must have happened!_  - and mild suspicion from his father -  _Something not right about that Circle, but they must have had reason._  - they settle into acceptance. Even Emery begrudgingly accepts it must have needed to happen.

Flynn finally breaks.

In the midst of his tirade, his mother reminds him of his duty to the Chantry, the promised role he has been set to take. There is silence from his father and his remaining brother.

“After the wrong they’ve done? Their own laws they’ve broken?  _You’d still support them?_  Open your eyes, Mother!”

“They have their reasons! Magic is meant to serve man–”

The vase shatters against the wall next to her head. The tension fills the room until it is nearly suffocating.

“If you believe all of this, you’re bigger fools than I thought.”

“Son–”

He whirls on his father, fighting back tears and rage flaring back to life. “ _How?_ How can you just _accept this_? This is not the Chantry I was taught exists. This is … this is  _wrong_! This is …”

Without a backward glance, he grabs his bow and quiver, taking to the forest behind their home. He tears through the foliage, bent low against Warden’s back, until he can no longer see the estate.

Leaving his horse to drink from the stream and climbing the branches of a familiar tree, he settles and finally lets himself weep for his brother. His fingers brush against the orange-jeweled ring Alard had given him before he was taken. He won’t forget and he won’t let the Chantry get away with this. No matter what.


	12. “Who Could Do This?” - Sidni Pre-Inquisition

“I don’t know what to tell you,  _salroka_. Ain’t seen her around in over a year.”

The shopkeeper stares suspiciously at her scarf covered face. She knows her eyes are wet above it. No one,  _no one_ , has seen Keeva since shortly after her father had taken her from here two years ago. With the brand now across her cheek, Dust Town’s inhabitants don’t want to speak to her. She’s had to take to hiding her face to get information from people she once interacted freely with.

“Th-thank you,” she hiccups, retreating from the shop quickly.

She ducks into a nearby alley, pulling the scarf over her face. _Do not cry. Do not_. Her breaths drown out the sounds of people passing and yelling. The hollow spot in her chest aches in a way she’s never felt.

She thinks of the way they left each other, their fingers grasping and voices echoing in pleading screams. All of which had fallen on deaf ears as they dragged her away and back to the surface. Back to her father.

Keeva has to be somewhere. Sidni will find her. She will.

 _Don’t be full of sod_. Keeva is … no. No. How could her father do this? How could anyone do this? Her father can’t be that bad. He wouldn’t have killed her.

 _Of course he would have_.

“Child? Are you okay in there, child?”

She drags the the scarf across her face to clean away the tears before straightening and looking to the strange dwarven woman at the mouth of the alley. She stares down at Sidni, thin face creased in worry.

“I … I just … I’ve lost my mother.”


	13. “Nice Try. Maybe Next Time.” - Sidni

Sidni stands across from Sera, a loose grouping of soldiers between them. They stare one another down, smirks playing on their faces. The soldiers glance uneasily at each other.

“This is not a good idea,” Cullen mutters from the sidelines.

Bull laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Relax, Cullen. They both know what they’re doing.”

“We can’t afford either of them getting hurt.”

“Aw, come on, Cully-wully. Don’t trust neither of us with this?” Sera taunts.

“I trust you’re both mad.”

Sidni glances at him with a smile, knowing it will be the opening Sera is waiting for. But she keeps herself loose, appearing unaware that Sera will attack.

Her bow is in motion, an arrow firing toward Sidni. She dodges easily, giving Cullen a reassuring nod as the soldiers begin their play acting battle.

Sera does her best. She’s good, Sidni will give her that. Their time together has shown how true her arrows fly, but Sidni has several more years’ experience of refining her reflexes and eliminating possible weaknesses under threat from her father. She knows how to use the others’ heights against them.

She flings a throwing knife, weaving closer. Sera dodges it, firing another arrow. She feels it disturb her hair as it passes. One of the soldiers swipes at her, but she takes his knees out, collapsing him into one of his nearby comrades. And while it takes out some “enemies,” it also eliminates her cover. She drops to avoid another arrow, grinning at Sera’s exclamation of “Piss!”

They spend a little longer taking out each others’ “allies” and dodging one another. Sidni sticks to her general plan, watching for openings. When she sees it, her moves become more aggressive, eyes trained on Sera’s erratic attacks.

Everyone freezes when she catches an arrow and leaps, tackling Sera to her back and holding the point at her throat.

“Maybe next time,” she says.

Sera lets out a laugh and accepts Sidni’s hand. Bull is laughing off to the side while Cullen rubs his face with his eyes cast skyward.

“You might be able to do it if you stopped yelling,” Sidni adds as she collects her blades and circles the fence to take Cullen’s hand. He shakes his head, begging her to stop taking unnecessary risks. Somehow, she knows claiming it was fun won’t set his nerves to rest.


	14. “Some People Call This Wisdom” - Flynn

He’s not expecting the person who comes to see him after his outburst. She’s silent as she joins him at the balcony, leaning on its railing next to him.

“Is Josephine angry?”

Leliana huffs a laugh. “She’s trying to smooth some ruffled feathers. She might be a little perturbed after, but she respects you. And that includes your opinion.”

Flynn sighs, letting his head fall forward. He hadn’t meant to let his emotions get the better of him.

“I am sorry. I just … maybe in the beginning, the Chantry was something that helped people. That didn’t tear them apart or turn them on each other. But the Chantry I know is corrupt, greedy, and doesn’t feel any guilt at inflicting suffering on families. Or other races or those who don’t believe.”

The hood usually casts Leliana’s face in shadow, but she tilts her head, letting the soft light of the evening show him the curious expression on her face.

“You lost someone to them.”

He twists the ring around his finger and nods. “They took everything from me, in a sense. But it started with my brother.”

“I am sorry.”

“Thank you. I’d like to imagine the Maker exists and is more … generous and kind than they make him out to be. That maybe he’s just as disappointed and frustrated in what the Chantry is. That he wants to help us. I certainly don’t like the idea that we’re in this alone. I don’t think he appreciates what humans have turned the Chantry into. Maybe that’s foolish.”

“You know, many would call your insights wisdom.”

“And many more would call it heresy,” he laughs.

“You are the Herald of Andraste. You speak for her and the Maker.”

“Maker help us if that ever becomes true. We’d be beyond any help.”

They stand in silence, mulling over their own thoughts as the sun sets. Flynn hated the Chantry before, and this entire journey with the Inquisition has only enforced that hatred. It’s almost worse than the Orlesian court and their political machinations.

At least the mages are free and under his protection.

“I agree with you,” Leliana murmurs. “The Chantry should be a force for good. It’s lost sight of all it preaches. They are empty words now. We can only hope the next Divine will set them on the right path once more.”

“You have more faith than I do,” he grumbles.

“It is not a bad thing to have, Inquisitor. Faith and hope are some of our most powerful tools. With enough, we could very well change things for the better.”


	15. “I Thought You Had Forgotten” - Sidni x Cullen

If only they could stay like this, he thinks, his attention drifting from the book resting on his stomach. Sidni’s fingers thread through his hair, nails scratching occasionally as she teases it into its natural state.

He glances up at Sidni from his resting place on her leg. Her face is turned toward the open doors of the balcony, a rare expression of peace softening her features. He shifts, pressing his cheek against her thigh. Yes, if they could just stay like this forever.

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing that night I found you in your office?”

He starts. There’s only one recent night she can mean. Heat floods his face as he thinks back to it. No. No he will not.

“Maker’s breath, Sidni! I thought you had forgotten it.”

She grins, still staring out into the night, grip tightening on his hair purposefully. He resists giving in to it.

“How could I?” She meets his gaze, her eyes full of the memory that followed. The spilled ink and wrecked papers and cracked chair.

“Something was on your mind.”

“I believe you were the one who instigated that.”

Her laugh rings through the room. “Cullen, I found you with your trousers half down. You can’t fool me into taking the blame.”

He’s not going to tell her what he was thinking about, nor what he imagined. She’s not going to let the subject drop, but maybe he can take a page out of her book.

She blinks when he drops the book to the floor and shifts. He straddles her legs with his knees, leaning in and brushing his roughened cheek against hers. A triumphant smile nearly breaks through when he hears her breath hitch. He trails his lips to hers, hovering over her mouth, listening to the way her breathing deepens and watching her hands fist in the quilt.

“Perhaps,” he says lowly, remembering her words, “I can show you.”


	16. “This Is Gonna Be So Much Fun!” - Flynn x Dorian

Flynn stares at himself in the mirror, smoothing the blue sash and crimson coat for the hundredth time. He looks ridiculous. He was never meant to be the son who did these sorts of things. And now here he is, about to meet with - ridiculous - royalty and try to charm the Orlesian court. As well as unravel an assassination plot.

Nothing too difficult.

“Now there’s a sight I can enjoy all night.”

Dorian is standing in the doorway, dressed similarly. Although he wears the uniform better than Flynn ever could. Their eyes meet in the glass and he sees Dorian’s smile dim. He steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“You’re worried.”

So much for successfully hiding his feelings. “A little,” he admits.

Dorian pulls him away from the mirror. He runs his hands along Flynn’s shoulders, lifting onto his toes slightly to give him a quick kiss.

“You’re the Inquisitor! You cannot fail. Even if you cause a scandal amongst the court, you’d still be a success.”

The corner of Flynn’s lips quirk.

“At least in my eyes,” Dorian adds.

Flynn’s breath escapes in a startled laugh. He pulls Dorian in for another kiss, brushing his thumb along the back of the mage’s neck before letting go.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

Dorian takes his arm, leading him out into the hallway.

“Come. Political intrigue and backstabbing nobles? This will be fun!”

“Your idea of fun is worrying.”

“My idea of fun is exemplary. I happen to know you enjoy it.”


	17. “I’ll Tell You, But You’re Not Gonna Like It” - Sidni

The Iron Bull is not easily intimidated. But staring down all three advisers this way is damn unnerving. Especially when one of them may or may not have a soft spot for the boss.

To her credit, Josephine only looks mildly concerned with a hint of disappointment underneath. Leliana’s face is blank, which could mean any number of things. Cullen is glaring daggers at him. If the commander were able to shapeshift, Bull might expect a dragon to breathe fire at him any moment now.

“Is there any particular reason you’ve brought the Inquisitor back with a head wound?” Leliana asks.

Varric is looking entirely too smug about all of this as he lurks silently in the back of the room. Bull vows to make sure he has no access to the good ale at the tavern in the coming days. Except that won’t work. The dwarf is used to Kirkwall’s piss. And Dorian got to sneak off to the healers’ with Sidni as “help.”

He’s on his own.

They all wait for an answer from him. When he and Sidni had first agreed to this between themselves, they had known no one would approve. It was only a matter of time until someone found out. Of course, they also knew that the advisers finding out would come as a result of injury. And since she’s currently out of commission, it’s up to Bull to confess. No one is going to like his explanation

“I threw her a little harder than I needed to.”

Cullen blinks. Leliana’s bows raise ever so slightly. But it’s Josephine who tilts her head and asks politely, “I’m sorry, did you say you  _threw_  the Inquisitor?”

“That’s right.”

Varric finally speaks up. “She missed the mage and hit a tree.”

Cullen definitely looks like he’s about to breathe fire.

“You used the Inquisitor - a living being - as a projectile?” Cullen asks.

“It was her idea.”

“Of course it was.”

The exasperation in the man’s voice is more fond than Bull would expect. He eyes Cullen, wondering when that happened.

“While I applaud your creativity,” Leliana cuts in, “perhaps it would be better to refrain from launching the Inquisitor at our enemies. She’s in enough danger consistently as it is.”

Bull decides not to tell them how many times tossing Sidni at their enemies has turned a battle in their favor, nor how much she seems to enjoy it. He simply nods his head and turns to leave.

“Sure thing, Red. I’ll let you be the one to tell her.”

Varric chuckles behind him and mutters, “Now that I have got to see.”


	18. “You Should Have Seen It” - Sidni x Cullen

She’s misses anonymity. Most of her life, she could frequent any spot she wanted, and no one would know she was the same dwarf. It’s getting more and more difficult to fade into the background. **  
**

Even in Skyhold, she can’t sit in the corner of the tavern without hearing increasingly ridiculous tales of her exploits. So far, she’s slayed a dragon single-handedly with a tiny knife, secretly has Corypheus locked away for research, and is the only one who is immune to red lyrium. The most common tale is that she’s capable of magic beyond the Mark. Several people have supposedly seen her freezing her enemies or lifting them with her mind.

Her favorite is that she _is_  Andraste returned to save them.

As if the Bride of the Maker - real or not - would choose her life.

She sinks down in her chair, shifting the tankard in front of her face. There’s a table nearby, full of soldiers extolling all the previous stories she’s heard, and then some. She just wants a quiet drink where she can ignore everything for a few moments.

“No, it’s true! You should have seen her! Glowing and turning those Venatori into dust! Just with a push of the Mark!”

The chair screeches as she shoves back, hopping down from it with enough force to make a thud. She sees the curious glances cast toward her, and then the way they all shift uneasily. She wonders if they’re waiting for her to turn them to dust, but she simply storms past them, down the stairs, and out into the evening.

Her feet carry her to Cullen’s office. She knows he’s busy, knows she shouldn’t bother him, but he’s the only place she’s guaranteed to find some peace.

He looks up when she slams the door behind herself, quill stilling in his hand. She lingers by the door, waiting for him to send her away. But he smiles and sets his work aside, shifting his legs for her to step between.

“Inquisitor.”

She huffs, hurrying across the room. Thankfully, he’s shed some of his armor and she can press her face into his chest. She clings to him, letting his familiar scent soothe her.

“I’m sorry.”

His hands stroke down her back, lips brushing against her temple.

“Do not apologize. Are you alright?”

“Do the ridiculous rumors ever stop?”

He chuckles. “Unfortunately not. You do have a fleet of griffons to raise and release back into the world after all.”

“By the Stone, Cullen,” she groans over his laughter.

He kisses her, tugging her hair away from her face as he tilts it upward. Their eyes meet and he gives her a soft smile.

“There will be different legends tied to your name now–”

“At least the old ones sounded better,” she grumbles.

“But they exist because these people believe in you and in the good you’re doing.”

She smirks. “Perhaps there will also be legends of the commander of the Inquisition falling into the Inquisitor’s arms like a swooning maiden. I’m sure Varric’s already working on something.”

“Maker’s breath, that’s the only thing more ridiculous than griffons.”

“Of course. I forgot you stumbled into my arms.”

Her laughter can be heard on the ramparts until Cullen sets her on the desk and silences it with his mouth.


	19. “I Hope You Have a Speech Prepared” - Flynn x Dorian

Flynn flops onto his back in the bed of the wagon they’d magically procured. His sore body protests, but he doesn’t care. He’s exhausted and more than a little battered from the battle.

Has he done it? Is it really over?

He watches the sky pass overheard, listens to the rattling of his remaining arrows in his quiver nearby and the others trading joyous words further away. Corypheus is gone, the Breach is finally closed, and … can he finally breathe a sigh of relief?

Dorian crawls next to him, performing a similar flop as he presses gently against Flynn.

“I do hope Josephine will let us indulge in the fancy stores of alcohol when we return.”

“More likely we’ll be forced to endure some sort of feast and entertain nobles from all over.”

“Of course. They’ll all be eager to throw themselves at the victorious Inquisitor to win his favor and place themselves in his good graces.”

“As if. More likely they’ll come to stare.”

“That too,” Dorian laughs. “I can’t say I blame them. The view is extraordinary.”

He elbows Dorian as his cheeks heat. His body protests, but he burrows closer to his love. If the victory celebration were just him and Dorian and the others, he’d be perfectly happy.

“Perhaps we can convince Josephine a feast is unnecessary.”  
  
“You’d sooner convince the sun not to rise. I hope you have a grand speech ready to amaze them all.”

He nudges his head against Dorian’s shoulder gently. Dorian cradles his cheek, running his thumb along the bruised skin.

“It’s over. We’re all here - save for Solas and he’s who knows where - and we’re alive. Together. Let’s enjoy that while we can.”

Flynn smiles. The Solas problem can wait. As for the other … “It will take her at least a little time to pull it together and people to travel to Skyhold. I don’t plan on leaving my bed until then.”

“I hope I’m invited to _that_ ,” Dorian growls.

“I haven’t decided yet.”


End file.
